Pit Er Pat

Less constrained than last year's rousing but rigid Shakey, Pyramids nonetheless feels cut from the same jib, snorting of goth cream soda staining a black velvet cloth template: Fay Jeffers-Davis's too-perky keyboards, Rob Doran's lithe bass-work, and Butchy Fuego's nuanced drumming in a three-way cage-match no one is trying to win. Jeffers-Davis  the trio's crispest, most commanding vocal force  sings lead this time while the others perform backup. The trio's lyrics are, as before, the sordid stuff of vivid nightmares and fantasies where protagonists are either dead, discover they possess supernatural abilities, or both. Pyramids proves more effective than Shakey by mixing up Pit Er Pat's usual fare  such as the prim, trim "Baby's Fist" ("I love the dark, cuz it's like I don't exist/I'm part of the air, just like snow fallin")  with less-structured songs like the title track: a tropical, percussive clutter running roughshod over chants, bird calls, electronic samples, and grunting bass. Wild and untamed, the music matches the message.